


A collection of stories I was too scared to post before

by VocConflagration



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Comfort, Drafts, First Love, M/M, Old Love, Short Stories, rambles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 20:32:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18373556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VocConflagration/pseuds/VocConflagration
Summary: A collection of works I was too scared to post before.These were written in 2017 and I like to think my writting (and perspective) has imporved, so sorry for the not-the best writting.^^extreme writing alert





	1. Let me drive

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for some of the stories being incomplete. Thank you for reading, I appreciate it.

“See! I was right all along Saihara-chan! Iruma-chan really is a dirty whore.” The Supreme leader exclaimed rather childishly and loudly, currently contrasting the mellow detectives’.  
Usually Saihara would give a simple answer, noise, and at the worst (Bare minimum!!) a smile. Now, however nothing was given up. In fact, the boy hasn’t said a single thing since picking Ouma up from the airport. They were making their way to Saihara household, fo maybe the sixth time since their the bud of their friendship.  
“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, Saihara-chan is being sooo emo!” Ouma laminates, believing with the best intentions that his words may catch the other male out of his thoughts. (Ouma secretly know, the words are burning through Saiharas skull.). Plum boy instantly regrets it when his eyes catch the others depressed glaze across (the seemingly longer) road. His knuckles whiten from the amount of tensions Saihara exerts.  
All Ouma (felt) like he could do was stare his insides onto mr. justice. Saihara’s typically determined and peaceful eyes frame with nothing more than amber despair. Lips tightly pursed matching furrowed eyebrows pairing rather scary but still fascinating in it’s own way. The cars moves slowly, but Ouma’s heart thumps, loud.’A disease obviously!’ pathetically joking with himself, but ultimately, the shorter one knew. He was undoubtedly in love with Sa- Shuuichi.  
Ouma could take a fucking hint. Lying can wait a bit, his closest friend needs him.  
Touching his shoulder, “Saihara, pull over.”  
No reaction.  
“Let me drive.”  
A flinch.  
“Please.”  
With a mental sigh of exhaustion, Saihara heeds to the passengers request. His eyelashes flutter heartbreakingly. And sure enough, the leader was navigating the jeep shrown in darkness. ‘Almost like -  
“You said yes, didn’t you?” A shaky voice corrupts the thick air. Ah.  
“Is that what youve been so choked up about.” Breathlessly and fast the driver prys.  
No answer. 

Moments go by, the air becoming stiff and empty. Almost as if it’s-

“I can’t take this anymore.” Mumbling Ouma pulla into a deserted nearby parking lot. What possessing Ouma to do this, no one can say; however he continues. Stopping the car with unexpected sighs, white cladded and all, unbuckles. Daring a voice jokes. Rather out of character, even for these kinds of situations, he begins to inquire a bit more subtle. “Saihara, what the everloving fuck is bothering you so god-damn much to this extent?!?”  
Called out, passenger shys away to the window. It’s been six years. Ouma can’t afford to lose Saihara because of some half assed confessioner.  
Gosh, it’s all so messy.  
Tears softly enchanting the neon light of the city spill from the same amber eyes from earlier; visibly hurt. Black sleeves wiping away salty droplets nearing the turned down lips. A mosaic of beauty collapsing.  
Ouma leans out of his seat and gently touches him, bearing his own sadness within his soul.  
“You’re…” Saihara bites back (chewing and spitting out), “In love with her?” Ouma swallows. Allowing the other to painfully finish. (He would lie his way into and out of emos head, but his soul was sputtering). “I’m… sorry.” -he cries a bit more, still gorgeous in a way- “I s-shouldn’t g-get so upset…” The detective stalls, (‘Maybe waiting for me to interject’ thinks ouma) before quickly tapping on four, hurtful words.  
“Afterall, we’re only friends.”  
This is a mess, not right. -Chaos.  
Their hands slide together. 

“I see how you look at Himeko-chan… It’s s-so full of love.”  
It was Saihara spilling his feelings, yet its Ouma breaking out in a fit. The immature laughter airy and loud, almost taunting.  
To level-headed people (much like the crying one), the laughter was directed to how pathetic his weak nature is.  
That’s not the case for this is truly discord.  
“Saihara-chan, youre so dumb!!” -he nods in agreement much to oumas distress- “You think THATS love?!” Supreme laughter fills even more. “HOW have you been so blind? For so long too.”  
Suddenly the gloomy face is being cupped by the deceitful boy. Fingers rubbing the tears away, resting foreheads together.  
“I love you, Shuuichi.”  
What a disaster. Being parked in a pizza parking lot. Heading to your friends family. Hysterically sobbing and chuckling.  
“B-B-But ye-yes-yesterday…!” Saihara is silenced by the sudden closeness. His final (only) attempt at proving Oumas lie.  
“I cleared things up beloved detective.”  
Flushing red and still lightly crying, a clear, “I love you Kokichi.”  
Silently a harmony began to stir inside their hearts.


	2. Reverse Hanahaki

Ouma knew it was because of him. 

The second the raven detective doubled-over, pale as snow, Ouma’s stomach dropped. 

It had been the middle of class when the leader “caught” a glance at the rather fidgety Saihara a few seats ahead. Sure, math was boring as hell, but there’s no reason to be so restless about it. Ouma studied Saihara for merely a moment and he could tell, something was wrong.  
His arching back.  
His hands clenching and turning white.  
The paling of his face dotted with little beads of sweat.  
His breathing heavy.

Is Saihara-chan constipated?

Ouma shook his head (smiling a little at his childish joke), he knew all too well. The purple teen as a child was often informed about people who coughed their love out, glittering petals to litter ways of unrequited attachment. A rampant disease which harmed the hopeless. But from what Ouma could tell, Saihara was loved by everybody: he was the fifty-third classes’ hope. These actions only added up to one thing- one thing undoubtedly. Just why, is the raven infected with the Hanahaki disease? 

Deciding to try to reach out to Saihara, Ouma scribbled a note. Disguising it as a prank so that the lame slut in front of himself would gladly give it to his crush. The note itself was simply a torn corner of their math assignment barley inscribed with any valuable vocabulary. Specifically, a call to meet outside of their class. 

As you know, minutes later the two were walking in a hallway. For once, a dark thick air loomed over them, something that Ouma often didn’t allow when they were together. This, is different. This needs to be discussed.   
Buttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt a fewwwwwwwwwwww more moments with Saihara couldn’t huuuurt?

Shit they could. 

A raging spiral of coughs and chokes filled the small ones ears. Hanahaki making its first appearance.   
Ouma rushed to the others side inwardly panicking but showing of an easy demeanor. Finding the shockingly painful hands of the others, he laced his own fingers through to allow some tension onto his own being. This, however to Ouma’s dismay, did not stop Shuichi from coughing the beautiful flowers. Flowers that were reflecting the sunlight like satan and littering the hallways. It was burning both to see (for ouma’s feelings were rejected and saihara too much pain), yet an odd peace came about. The Leader tried to bring down the sick onto a kneeling or at least, a sitting position to help the coughing and put less strain on his fragile legs.


	3. I think youre beautiful

Kokichi often noticed the bruises.   
The colourful splotches that coated his roomates torso.   
At first the liar didn’t care much, even going as far as to believe the others lies about falls and such. But falls can’t do that to a person. A fall wouldn’t infect his mind to drink whenever he got the chance. A fall wouldn’t make you dance to pop music at 2 am. A fall wouldn’t make you laminate deep into the night when you believe no one is around to hear or help.   
Shuichi Saihara, the enigmatic detective that by luck got placed in the same dorm as a supreme leader.  
To the liars dismay, their schedules never lined up. One class always took place of the others break, diner for one may be at 8pm whereas the other eats late or skips entirely, and sleeping took a form of partying. School was hell, relationships were hell, and life take a fascinating embodiment of hell. So, It wasn’t much of a surprise when they go a few months without seeing each other, Kokichi couldn’t even care. To him, his life was made to be alone, and it was comforting like that.   
[Sometimes the quiet scent of beer would stager in the halls. The tiny boy would have to turn cold to not think about the gentle murmurings of the other.]  
Sighing, the plum headed boy reaches for his tattered covers lazily lounging upon the frame of his (desirable) bed. Collapsing, Mental establishing concludes that his brain was far too fried from dwelling on useless -rather tasteless- topics of inconvenience. Fluttering his eyes close, Kokichi imagines what could happen if he walked into the ‘forbidden’ room (as he dubs) right now. Would he rise to see the boy fine -all the problems the leaders active imagination-, or would it be what he expected… It doesn’t matter, he’s asleep in a matter of seconds and the images of Shuichi fade into nothingness. Never to surface again.  
Just how Ouma enjoys.  
Just how Shuichi resents.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate the stutters but I shall preserve my 2017 writing.


End file.
